


choices color all i've done

by allourheroes



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Family, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 05:37:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12647172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allourheroes/pseuds/allourheroes
Summary: EXCERPT:Daredevil swallows because he has to. “It’s Karen,” he says, voice a rough whisper.The Punisher turns into Frank Castle in an instant. His constant anger is overwhelmed by worry. “Where is she? What happened?”“She’s--”“I thought you were gonna keep her safe, Red. That’s why I--” Frank’s mouth forms a thin line, jaw tensing, as he inhales through flaring nostrils. “Doesn’t matter.” He runs a hand over his head. “Where is she?”Daredevil, stunned despite the knowledge thatFrank Castleis notjusta killer, breathes raggedly for a moment. Lets himself sense all that tension, the coiling of muscles, the irregularity of Frank’s breathing. “She’s fine,” he says quickly. “She’s fine, she’s just--” He can feel the way Frank’s hackles drop and something like relief must pour over him. “You slept with her.” And suddenly his own anger is back. “You’re-- you’re dangerous. Youbringdanger. And you slept with her. Didn’t you think--”“I don’t see how that’s any of your goddamn business,” Frank interrupts, but he hears something in Frank’s voice that sounds almost like guilt. “You got the hots for her? Ask her out. She’s her own person.”“She’s pregnant."





	choices color all i've done

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to get this done and posted before _The Punisher_ comes out since I've been working on this...since season two of _Daredevil_?
> 
> There's Frank/Karen, canon-typical angst, hope, some attempts at humor, and some very minor Matt/Foggy. Oh, and as the rating implies, a bit of sex. ~~And we'll pretend like this _isn't_ the first and only time I've written pregnancy that isn't mpreg.~~
> 
> Oops. Anyway, the title comes from "Babel" by Mumford and Sons.

Karen is surprised to find Matt and Foggy in her office, but she had been the one to suggest that they all get lunch together. 

Matt doesn’t need heightened senses to know Karen is upset.

She’s trying to hide it, as she always does, but when her tea-- _odd_ , he thinks--starts to fall from her shaking hands, he catches it just in time to save her from the burns. He places the cup on the desk and opens his mouth, closes it again.

It’s Foggy who says, “Karen...are you okay?”

Karen starts to nod, but then she shakes her head. She leans back heavily on her desk, and, thinking better of it, actually takes a seat. Her hands twitch and shake as she fiddles with her cup.

“You need to tell us what’s going on,” Matt demands, hides his wince as Foggy and Karen’s heart rates accelerate, as a new tension rises. He clears his throat, visibly calms himself. “Please.”

Foggy sighs. “I hate to say Matt’s right, but...what _is_ going on, Karen?”

Her mouth forms a thin line and she hesitates. “I’m.” She huffs. “I’m,” and her voice drops to a forced whisper, “pregnant.”

Matt asks, “Whose is it?” at the same time Foggy asks, “Are you keeping it?”

They both turn to face each other, then to Karen.

“It’s…” And Karen is truly uncomfortable, but truculent. “It’s Frank’s.”

“Frank?” Matt repeats, then it clicks. “Frank _Castle_?”

“You slept with the _Punisher_?” Foggy asks.

Karen ignores these new questions, backtracks. “And yes, I’m keeping it.”

“Good,” Matt says, before he can stop himself.

Foggy scoffs at him. “‘ _Good_?’ You think it’s good that Karen, your ex and former woman of my dreams--sorry, Karen--is keeping the _Punisher’s_ baby?” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, right. The Catholic thing.”

“His name is _Frank_ ,” Karen interrupts, heated. “He’s a human being.”

“Does he know?” Matt asks, and his voice is tremulous but firm.

“I...I don’t have a way to contact him. Not reliably, anyway.”

“So what? The-- _Frank_ would just show up out of the blue and you two would-- Wait. Was this--? Did he force you into this?” Foggy’s eyes go soft and worried. “I know you have some weird insight into the guy, but if he-- we’ll get him. I don’t care how pants-shittingly scary he is, I will take him down myself.”

Karen’s face goes stony. “No. Everything between us was completely consensual.”

“I have to go,” Matt says and he’s turning and stalking out without waiting for a response.

“Where are you going?” Karen calls, but Foggy can guess. She may know he’s Daredevil, but not the details of his communication with the Punisher.

“I need to take care of something.”

Foggy lets out a long sigh and turns from the door to Karen. “Who should I invite to the shower?”

~

The Punisher addresses Daredevil before he turns, “Red, thought you were gonna leave me alone for a while.”

“I was,” Daredevil agrees, taking a step forward.

The Punisher turns and Daredevil clenches his fists and suddenly they’re grappling with each other, trying to knock each other down.

“This is not why I’m here,” Daredevil grunts as the Punisher presses him back into a wall.

The Punisher is equally conflicted, but it’s hard for them to _not_ fight. “Yeah?” he asks.

Daredevil manages to nod. “Yeah.”

Reluctantly, the Punisher loosens his grip. “Then why?”

Daredevil swallows because he has to. “It’s Karen,” he says, voice a rough whisper.

The Punisher turns into Frank Castle--family man and hero--in an instant. His constant anger is overwhelmed by worry. “Where is she? What happened?”

“She’s--”

“I thought you were gonna keep her safe, Red. That’s why I--” Frank’s mouth forms a thin line, jaw tensing, as he inhales through flaring nostrils. “Doesn’t matter.” He runs a hand over his head. “Where is she?”

Daredevil, stunned despite the knowledge that _Frank Castle_ is not _just_ a killer, breathes raggedly for a moment. Lets himself sense all that tension, the coiling of muscles, the irregularity of Frank’s breathing. “She’s fine,” he says quickly. “She’s fine, she’s just--” He can feel the way Frank’s hackles drop and something like relief must pour over him. “You slept with her.” And suddenly his own anger is back. “You’re-- you’re dangerous. You _bring_ danger. And you slept with her. Didn’t you think--”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your goddamn business,” Frank interrupts, but he hears something in Frank’s voice that sounds almost like guilt. “You got the hots for her? Ask her out. She’s her own person.”

Frank turns away and Daredevil grabs his shoulder, lets go as soon as he feels Frank’s muscles tense again. “She’s pregnant,” he whispers, strained.

Frank doesn’t turn back to him, stays frozen. Waiting.

“Did you hear me?” Daredevil asks, and he wants to scream. “She’s pregnant. It’s yours.”

Frank still doesn’t turn, just drops to his knees. “She’s-- Karen’s--” He starts hyperventilating and his breathing is marred by the wet, sticky sound of tears and snot and utter _humanity_.

For the first time up there with the Punisher, Daredevil drops his guard completely. “Frank?”

No words are exchanged and this pseudo-silence--for there are still cars and distant sirens, conversations that Daredevil can’t focus on when he’s here with Frank--stretches on and on.

Daredevil is still. Frank Castle is still.

Breathing starts to even out--enough, at least. Enough that Frank can force out the words he needs to say. “I don’t know if I should go to her or stay as far away as possible.”

Daredevil’s throat works. He thinks about the accusations he just made, of Frank putting Karen in danger, of Frank being dangerous. Then he thinks about Karen. “You need to see her, at least. Don’t just-- _disappear_ again.”

Daredevil knows that Frank is nodding, that Frank’s heart is thudding loudly against his ribcage.

“Where is she?” Frank asks again.

“Her apartment,” Daredevil replies, and wonders briefly if Frank knows where that is.

Frank nods again. When he speaks, he sounds broken, like a soldier looking for orders. “Should I-- should I go now?”

~

It’s only when he reaches the door that Frank wonders what he looks like. He had taken often the skull, had adorned something that wouldn’t draw so much attention, but he knows he looks like he’s been in a fight or twenty.

Frank Castle’s hand shakes as he knocks on the door.

The door opens a crack at first, chain still locked, and Frank shifts nervously, but then it’s Karen’s voice, Karen’s face peering through the little opening and slamming the door closed so she can undo the chain and swing the door open wide and usher him inside.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, then looks worriedly at his face. She doesn’t touch him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, but she doesn’t back away.

Frank lets out an unintelligent grunt, too uncertain. Then, “Ma’am.”

“Those flowers for her?” a voice interrupts and Frank nearly crushes the bouquet in his fist.

Karen puts her hands up placatingly. “It’s fine. It’s just Foggy.”

“Hi,” Foggy greets, but he looks wary.

Frank gives him a nod, assesses him, and then his attention is back on Karen. “We need to talk.”

Karen looks startled--almost panicked--but she swallows it all down and nods. “Yeah,” she agrees. At Frank’s gesture, Karen manages, “Foggy, can you just...give us a sec.”

“Leave my friend with a psychopathic murderer-slash-vigilante fugitive? Sounds like a great plan,” he replies sarcastically, but he complies, shutting himself in Karen’s bedroom.

“Are you--” Frank starts. “How are you?”

Karen shrugs, her gaze stuck on a dent in her wall where she had tried to cover one of the bullet holes. “Fine,” she says. She rocks slightly. “And, um, you? How are you doing?”

Frank realizes he’s still clutching the flowers and sets them on the counter. “Same. You know.” His lips quirk into something approaching a smile, if only a nervous one.

They stand there a moment looking and not-looking at each other until Karen clears her throat. “Can I get you anything?”

Frank starts to shake his head before changing his mind. “Water?” He stares at her when she turns away to get it. His fists clench and unclench. “You pregnant?”

Karen drops the glass and it shatters. “Oh-- Sorry! I’ll just, um--” She moves with uncertainty and Frank grabs the towel from the counter and starts cleaning up the mess.

“Everything okay out there?” Foggy calls. “Karen, you okay?”

Karen’s breath stutters, but she calls back. “Yeah. Sorry, Foggy.”

“If you need me to kick him out, I’ll do it,” Foggy replies.

“Thanks.”

Frank chuckles.

Karen doesn’t know what to do with her hands, but she gestures to the sofa. “Why don’t you-- we sit down.”

“Sure.” He ushers her to sit down first and takes a respectful distance.

Karen stares at her hands clutched in her lap. “So, um. Who _told_ you?”

“The Devil,” he replies.

Karen scoffs. “I can’t believe he would do that.”

“You two friends? I know he always seemed to save you.” He doesn’t let on any more about Daredevil, out of respect.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, we’re friends. And I thought _friends_ didn’t go around announcing the things you want to keep private.”

Frank nods, his throat constricting. “Would you have told me? If, uh, if your _friend_ hadn’t?”

“How exactly would I have done that?” she asks.

Frank lets out a long breath. “Guess Red had a point about that disappearing thing.” He looks at her. “So it’s true? You’re…”

Karen nods. “Yeah,” she says softly. “I am.”

Frank sucks in a breath. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut and his face crumples, the tears coming again. “Are you keeping it?”

Karen hesitates, then nods again.

“I’m sorry, Frank. I know this is-- that your family meant a lot for you and this is...unexpected. You don’t have to be involved, but you...can be. If you want.” She gestures, rests her hand on the edge of the cushion and squeezes it. “I don’t know how any of it would work with you out there, but.” She stops.

Frank swallows, swipes at his face. “I don’t know if I can be a dad again, after everything that--” He chokes a gasp, sniffles.

“I know,” Karen says gently.

Frank’s hand moves to cover hers.

~

“Karen?” Foggy whisper-shouts. “Can I come out now?”

When he receives no response, he eases the door open, glances around, takes note of the flowers on the counter and the towel on the floor.

He walks around to face the couch and finds Frank curled into Karen’s lap, head pillowed on her stomach, hand pressed wide and flat there beside it.

“Is he sleeping?” Foggy whispers, too loud.

Karen nods, her fingers scratching gently over Frank’s scalp.

“Are you two even together?” Foggy asks.

Karen just stares at Frank, silent as she continues her ministrations.

“Should I go home?”

Karen nods again and finally speaks. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, we’ll be fine.”

~

Foggy pounds on the door without caring about Matt’s neighbors. “Matt! Matt, are you home?”

There’s a thunk inside and then the shuffle of feet. Matt opens the door half in costume. “Foggy? It’s 3am.”

“You told the Punisher.”

Matt pulls Foggy into his apartment and closes the door. “I did, yeah.”

“He’s over there now. At Karen’s.”

Matt nods and starts stripping off the rest of the costume. “Good.”

“Does this not worry you?” Foggy asks, and then pretends he wasn’t staring at Matt’s ass while he was changing.

Matt shrugs. “Not really, no. I told him to go over there.”

“What?!” Foggy stares at Matt incredulously, his mouth hanging open. “You’d put her in that kind of danger?” He shakes his head. “What am I asking? Of course you would. You don’t give risking the lives of everyone around you a second thought. Why _wouldn’t_ you send the Punisher to our friend’s apartment.”

“It’s not like he hasn’t been there before.”

Foggy’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times, a meaningless noise coming out of him. “But still,” he finally manages.

“Frank is a killer, but I don’t think he would hurt Karen.”

“No,” Foggy agrees sarcastically. “Just knock her up and leave her.”

“I’d love to blame him as much as you, but,” and Matt sucks in a breath like it pains him to say, “he didn’t know.”

Foggy deflates. “I know.” He shuffles around a moment. “He brought her flowers.”

Matt smirks. “You never bring _me_ flowers,” he teases.

Loosening his tie and taking a step towards Matt, the expression is reflected. “Shut up,” he says, and takes another step.

~

Karen wakes up to Frank lifting her off the couch. “What?”

“Bed,” he tells her, offering a smile.

She nods, blinking as her eyes close again.

“Do you want to change?” he asks, gesturing to her clothes, and Karen realizes she’s on her bed.

“Oh--” She strips off her dress and looks around, notices that Frank is averting his eyes. She clears her throat. “Can you, um, hand me that?” She points and Frank tries not to look at her as he glances at the direction she’s pointing.

He tosses her the oversized T-shirt without turning to her.

“Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to look away.”

Frank hesitates.

“There. All covered,” she says, and he finally turns.

“I should go.”

“You don’t have to. You can stay. If you want.” She glances down, then at Frank.

Frank stares at her. “You want me to stay?” Karen nods and Frank continues. “I could sleep on the couch.”

Karen shrugs. “Or you could sleep here. With me.”

“We’ve never...slept together,” Frank says dumbly.

Karen rolls her eyes. “We were literally just sleeping together.”

“I mean on purpose.” He wrings his hands together. “I’ve got nightmares.”

“Me, too.”

Frank just stares again, then nods. He shrugs off his jacket, hesitantly starts on his fly.

“Frank, I’ve seen you naked,” Karen mocks.

Frank chuckles and undresses, down to boxers and socks. “You wanna be the big spoon or the little spoon?”

~

Matt lifts his head to look at Foggy. “Where are you going?”

“To work. Unlike you, I have a _job_.”

Matt grunts and puts his head back down, smiles to himself at the heavy sigh he hears.

~

“Shit! I gotta get to work!” Karen groans and turns her phone face down.

Frank hops out of bed on high alert before he realizes where he is. Carefully, he crawls back down onto the covers. His eyes lose their panic as he watches Karen watch him.

Karen’s fingers don’t tremble as she reaches up to touch his face, run fingertips across a cut, linger on his cheek.

Frank doesn’t realize he’s leaning down until Karen rises up to meet him halfway, lips meeting and Frank’s body not so much crashing down as craving contact.

He pulls back. “Sorry. Don’t piss off your boss on my account.”

“I make my own choices,” Karen says, as she always has. She watches Frank, her gaze sharp for just a second before all vitriol disappears and she kisses him again, drags him down.

There’s a struggle, blankets to be pushed aside and clothing to be removed and then their bodies are meeting and she’s really going to be late--she’s already late--and it’s not the first time, but it might as well be.

~

Karen hears the knock at her office door and is glad she has at least half a second to compose herself.

She’s not surprised when it’s Matt.

“Are you checking up on me?”

Matt’s smile is sheepish and so charming that it’s almost forgivable.

Karen sighs. “Yes, he came to see me.” She glares at him, although she’s not sure how much he can sense of that. “It wasn’t your place to tell him.”

Shrugging, Matt fiddles with his cane. “Someone had to.”

Karen lowers her voice, a quick glance towards the bullpen through her closed door. “And if _someone_ had told me they had a way of contacting him, I would’ve done it myself.”

Silence follows, then, “I was just trying to do the right thing.” He puts up a hand. “I-- I know I shouldn’t have done it. But Frank and I tend to end up having…a _disagreement_ every time we meet and I wanted to make sure this was taken care of.”

“I’m still angry,” she warns, “but thanks. I know you and I were almost together for a while there and it couldn’t have been easy to find out that he and I were…” She grasps for the words. “Seeing more of each other than I let on.”

“Where is he now?” Matt asks, although he knows where Frank has been. She smells like him.

“I told him he could stay in my apartment, but I don’t know if he’ll be there when I get back.” Her nerves come through in her tone, her anxiety, and Matt offers his sympathy, reaches out to grasp her hand.

“I don’t know him like you do,” and the second the sentence is out, Karen flushes, “but I don’t think he wants to leave.” Matt’s expression is serious, borders on a frown. “He regrets not protecting his family. I doubt he’ll let go now that he has the opportunity to get it right.”

Karen exhales heavily through her nose. “Unless he thinks I’ll be safer when he’s long gone.”

Matt hums. “It’s not out of the realm of possibility.”

“Hey, um. If you see him, tell him I want him to stay--just a little while, at least.”

There’s an agreement in the quiet of the room.

Karen breaks the ice again. “Where’d you get that hickey?”

Suddenly, Matt is covering his neck like he’s been attacked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, and the chuckle that follows can only be described as nervous.

“Of course not,” she acquiesces, and watches Matt scuttle away with far less finesse than normal.

~

Karen unlocks the door and opens it slowly, afraid of what she’ll find in her apartment. “Hello?” she calls, although she thinks of how quickly she could grab the .380 from her purse.

Frank steps out from the doorway of her bedroom.

“Ma’am,” he greets.

“You stayed.”

“Yeah, well, y’asked me to.” Frank’s voice is different when he’s with her.

“How long will you stay?” she asks, and she knows that she shouldn’t. She feels like asking will cause Frank to bolt like a rabbit, but she still feels compelled to do it. She’s living every second in uncertainty and Frank has his mission. No matter what.

Frank looks out the window, like he’s yearning for the hunt. “Dunno,” he admits. “There are so many evil sons of bitches out there.” He clenches his fist. “I can’t stand it.”

Karen nods. She wants to shout, but the words are caught in her throat.

“I can’t stand thinking they’ll get you.”

Karen turns her head, stares toward the window. She wants to say that she can take care of herself, but he knows it. “I can’t stand thinking they’ll get you,” she echoes, and waits for her words to sink in.

He wants to say the same damn thing she did, and she knows it.

Instead, Frank smirks. “Got me there.” He takes a step toward her and dares to stroke the backside of his fingers over her cheek. “You make me feel like there’s still somethin’ out there worth a damn. Even if you weren’t…”

“But that’s the only reason you stayed, isn’t it?” she asks. “You stayed because I’m pregnant. Because you have a chance at a family again and even though it’ll never replace what you had, you don’t want to give it up either.” She stares at him like she can see right through him, and he’s certain she can--of all people, only she can. “You don’t want to lose it all again and that scares the shit out of you. It scares you that you might care and it scares you that you could lose it.” She looks down. “I don’t know which scares you more.”

Frank voice is soft and gruff, but his hand cups her chin until she’s looking at him. “I don’t know either, ma’am.” 

~

Karen wakes up to find Frank asleep beside her. His face is less drawn and hard and, for just a minute, he looks like someone else entirely.

With careful fingertips, walks along his temple, she traces the line of his jaw.

He doesn’t open his eyes, but his hand catches hers, thumb rubbing over her palm and Karen turns over, bringing his hand over her until it rests before her heart. He brushes past her breast and she shudders. Almost without thought, she presses back against him feels him stir.

His hand moves, wrist shifting as if it could be an accident--unconscious and unintentional and not perfectly planned--as he gently catches her nipple in the vee of his thumb and forefinger.

Karen’s breath trembles and she squeezes his hand in acquiescence, lets go as he kisses the back of her neck. His hand snakes up her shirt and he palms her breast and she wriggles back against his growing erection.

“Frank,” she murmurs, and he must get the hint because his hand slides down her side to catch on her underwear.

He rocks his hips experimentally and swears as he feels her through two layers of cotton. His fingers make quick work of peeling down her panties far enough to allow him access as he manages to free himself through his boxers.

Frank holds Karen’s hip as he enters her, and he’s the one that’s shaking, that still can’t believe they can do this. A pang of guilt thrums at his conscience, but then Karen is saying his name again and everything else melts away.

His fingers find their way to her front again, rubs her clit as her arm swings over her shoulder to grab him any way that she can. Her nails scratch at the back of his neck and he fucks her in a rhythm that can’t be kept, that leads quickly to her body quivering and his own too overcome to do anything but follow.

They lie there and he’s still in her and she’s still clutching the back of his neck.

They’re both imagining what it would be like to have a normal life.

~

Frank disappears for almost a month before he shows up on Karen’s doorstep, half dead.

Manic, Karen calls Foggy, but Matt answers. She sets Frank up in her bedroom and quietly tries not to panic.

Matt shows up fifteen minutes later with Claire and the two argue.

“This? This is a step too far. That man in there is a _murderer_. We have to--”

And then the door is shut and their conversation too hushed for Karen to follow. Tears streak her cheeks as she holds onto Frank’s hand.

He looks up at her, eyes bleary, face swollen and bloodied.

“You’re gonna be okay,” she tells him, because it’s the sort of thing you can’t help but say in these situations.

“Doesn’t matter,” Frank murmurs, staring at nothing.

And then she’s angry. “God _damn_ it, Frank. I need you. This”--and her hand is like a claw over her belly--“needs you. You can’t die. Not yet.”

Frank swallows. It’s a struggle. He doesn’t look at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Karen kneels, pressing her forehead to the back of his hand, clutching it close.

The door opens and Claire starts giving orders and Karen tries to tell herself it’s fine.

Why did she have to fall in love with someone whose only interest is in death?

When did she realize she was in love with him?

~~~

Matt and Foggy run interference at the hospital without ever being asked to do so.

When Frank slips into the room, Karen is exhausted and barely conscious, but she still smiles when she sees him. “C’mere,” she murmurs, and she lifts the newborn toward him--barely a couple of inches, but enough that he leans down to scoop the baby into his arms.

“What’s ’is name?” Frank asks, voice low and awed.

Karen, groggy, shakes her head slightly and exhales a sigh. “No name yet. Wanted to meet him first.”

The noise Frank makes is surprised, happy. It’s something even Karen has never heard from him before, something no one else alive has heard.

“I knew you’d come,” she says, trying to hoist herself up, to take in a moment that can never be re-experienced. “Even though I said it was a bad idea and I didn’t want you getting into trouble, I knew you’d come.” She swallows. “And I’m glad you did. I wanted you to.”

“He’s so small,” Frank whispers, and he’s crying now, sniffling, as he stares at the tiny baby in his arms. “Tinier’n Lisa was, even, and she was just.” He shakes his head. His face crumples. “He’s beautiful,” he manages, between sobs and Karen scooches over on the hospital bed, patting the space beside her.

She feels the mattress shift and the heat of a body behind her, leaning into it as Frank slips the child back into her arms.

“He’s perfect,” Frank says, and whether he’s talking to her or himself, it doesn’t matter.

“He’s ours,” Karen says, and she’s talking to Frank.

She doesn’t know what will happen next and she’s already feeling his loss, but she lets Frank hold her until she drifts off.

Karen wakes up alone.

~

Matt and Foggy are very much Matt-and-Foggy, Karen has found, but only when they think no one is looking.

As they make their way back from the hospital to the realm of bullet holes and poorly-spackled plaster, Karen is less out of it than she seems, more caught up in loneliness and something akin to fear than her exhaustion.

Foggy leans on Matt’s shoulder and Matt’s thumb rubs the back of Foggy’s hand where their hands are conjoined. She can see it in the rearview mirror and she loves it. She hates it.

She’s intensely jealous of her two best friends. How dare they find happiness so easily in each other’s arms?

A moment later and she realizes how petty she’s being. She also realizes this is the time to be petty--when she’s tired and lost and fresh out of the hospital and it feels so very strange to have that thing that was in you, part of you, no longer so.

He doesn’t look like Frank. He hasn’t been grizzled by pain and loss.

He doesn’t look like her. He doesn’t have secrets he can never share.

Not yet.

Hopefully not ever, but she knows he won’t be lucky enough for that life.

She still doesn’t know what to call him, can already see the headline declaring his untimely death with each name she imagines.

Karen doesn’t let fear run her life, and she reminds herself of that, but she looks at the baby and can’t help thinking he was safer before.

~

The apartment is filled with streamers and congratulations and even a card from Ellison. Despite her earlier melancholy, she brightens at the work her friends have done, at the shoddy attempt at making her world a little happier. There’s even a stroller although she can’t imagine how they’ve managed to afford it.

“Karen.” And she turns to look at Matt, but he’s nodding toward the other room.

Her heartbeat picks up and she almost doesn’t dare to hope. The baby starts to fuss. “Sh, sh, sh,” and she rocks him as she approaches, holds her breath as she pushes open the door.

“I'm not giving it up,” he says, and he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands locked and his head down.

Slowly, she takes a seat beside him.

“I can’t give up on them. I owe them the head of every person responsible for what happened and then some.” He finally looks at her and his hands twitch where they’re laced before him, as if he desperately wants to reach out. “But that’s because they’re my family. And I don’t give up on family. And, I guess what I’m trying to get at, ma’am.” He hesitates and the baby cries. “Can I?”

Karen can only nod, all her bluster and yet everything is just caught in her throat. She eases him into Frank’s arms.

“Hey, little guy,” he says, and he holds him up close to his chest, examines every feature like he’s memorizing it. He looks up but Karen is staring at the kid still, as if she’s doing the same. “Ma’am.” He clears his throat. “Karen.”

That brings a smile to her face, at least. “Yeah?”

“You and him,” he starts. “You’re my family, too. And I’m not giving that up. Not ever. They’re going to have to pry it out of my cold, dead fingers if they think they can take my family from me again.”

Karen doesn’t speak but after a moment he hears a sound, like stuttered breathing at first but then it gets louder.

Frank settles the baby onto his lap and tentatively places an arm around Karen’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he says, and maybe he even dares believe it now. “I-- _We’ll_ make it okay. Me and you? We’ll protect him.” He can feel her nod, although the sniffling continues. “Have, uh, have you thought of a name?”

Karen shakes her head and she fixes their son’s blanket. “I can’t bring myself to choose.” She swipes ineffectively at her nose. Quieter, she adds, “I feel like naming him makes it real. If he has a name, he can suffer and he can--” She stops and Frank presses his cheek to her hair.

“He doesn’t need a name to suffer. Whatever you choose there--name, no name--isn’t gonna change that. It’s all about what we do to keep our boy safe.”

“‘Our boy,’” she repeats, and leans in.

~

In the other room, Foggy nudges Matt. “So?” he asks, in a whisper that is not a whisper.

“How do you know I’m listening?” Matt raises an eyebrow for effect and Foggy sighs heavily in return, waiting. Matt smiles, his hand finding Foggy’s. “I think I’ve said enough.”

Foggy grumbles, but he nods. “Yeah,” he chastises, then, with a squeeze to Matt’s hand. “Good job.”


End file.
